My Beloved is Unto Me
by Philippa Somerville
Summary: Rose Tyler must come to terms with her feelings for the part-human Doctor, post-Journey's End.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

**Author's Note**: Section breaks within chapters are noted by two bold-faced words.

**It was** her own fault, she supposed, that she had gotten so very cold. Afterward, after the words, after the kiss, after the machine had disappeared from the beach, her knees had given way and she had sat in the wet sand for a long time, oblivious to the salt water seeping through her trousers and soaking her skin, barely hearing her mother's voice as she discussed transport options with Pete, a little more aware of the man in the blue suit, who crouched on the sand next to her, hand on her shoulder. She sat like a puppet dropped to the ground, her legs splayed out straight before her, and before long her entire lower half was soaked in the frigid water, leaching up from the sand. Had she begun to shiver then? Perhaps. Or perhaps on the ride in the plane that had landed on the small airstrip nearby. Or perhaps in the car that took them to the Tyler mansion.

It was a testament to her step-father's influence and ready cash that they were home six hours after the Doctor had vanished. No ticket lines, long waits at security, or delays on the tarmac for the private jet conjured at a local airport and its three bedraggled occupants. For the first time in years Rose felt intensely grateful for the privileges her fake father brought into her life. No, that wasn't fair to Pete. That was the cold talking, and maybe the roiling anger that the cold seemed to be holding in place but not helping. It was probably for the best, as she sat in the backseat of the car with the new new new Doctor's hand on hers, that all she felt was cold. Wouldn't do to examine too much else yet. She wondered idly what the salt in her now only damp pants was doing to the buttery caramel-colored leather of the seat on which she was sitting.

Once they had arrived at the mansion, the various occupants had scattered. Jackie had run to Tony and Pete and the small family had been reunited happily if (uncharacteristically) quietly. Indeed, Jackie had been eerily quiet the whole way home, watching both the Doctor in blue and her daughter with an edgy disbelief. Rose had not had the wherewithal to look directly at the Doctor on the ride home. It had been bad enough on the beach, with those brown eyes black in the light, huge in his face, as he had said those words filled with hope and expectation. And she did not look at him now, as she muttered something about a bath and took the stairs to the second floor two at a time–a bit surprising that she was able to do so, really, given how cold she was. Adrenaline at work, she supposed. Anything to get away from the eyes on her. They did not try to stop her. People giving Rose Tyler a wide berth–business as usual in this universe.

But if she had not been shivering before, she certainly was as she sat on the side of the bathtub in the enormous marble bathroom that adjoined the room at the Tyler mansion designated as hers. She rarely slept here, preferring her small flat near Torchwood or–really, let's be honest, more nights than not–the couch in her office. But at the moment she was grateful for the capacious tub and the massive water heater that was delivering steaming water into it. She felt the sudden intensification of cold, as some of the numbness wore off–oddly, the rising temperature of the air around her threw her own bodily cold into focus and her teeth began to chatter violently. With shaking hands, she pulled a towel from a rack and a thick bathrobe from a hook on the back of the door and laid them on the edge of the tub. Wouldn't want to have to look for them afterward. Then she stripped off her shirt and–with a bit more difficulty because they were now stiff with salt–her trousers, socks, and shoes. She eased herself into the tub, wincing at the scalding sensation of cold flesh meeting hot water. The pain passed, however, and she felt her limbs relax. She sank her whole body below the water and let the warmth penetrate, scalp to toes. Coming up, she toed off the faucet as the water neared the brim of the tub. She stared at her abandoned clothes. She could see the salt stains from here. The trainers might be done for. Can you put trainers in the washing machine? She toyed with the idea of creating a bonfire of all of them. Bit overdramatic, really, and Pete probably would worry that the house would go up.

As her body warmed and became comfortable, her mind was loosed and began to wander over the events of the last days and months. She tried, momentarily, to prevent it, but what was the point, really? Not as if the pain could be avoided. Better to confront it straight out and start–again–the process of finding equilibrium.

After the first time on the beach in Norway, there was a period of sixth months that were still a blur to her. Jackie, Mickey, and Pete had filled her in to a certain extent, but none of them particularly liked to talk about it. Pete was the most forthcoming, since at the time she meant little to him and so he had the least hard time recounting it. Apparently she had collapsed on the beach and fallen into an almost catatonic state of depression, eating little and doing less. It didn't take a psychologist, she supposed, to figure out that in a desperate grab for control in an out-of-control situation she had clamped down on what she could regulate–eating and activity. Her weight had plummeted, and in fact had yet to recover, even though her eating had returned to something closer to normal…though she had never really redeveloped a taste for chips. After she had recovered somewhat physically, she had realized–nudged also by Pete and Jackie–that she needed something to occupy her mind. Torchwood, which had been her plan from the beginning (she had said as much to the Doctor on the beach), seemed the obvious choice, both as a place to utilize her experience with the Doctor and to find a way back to him. And at Torchwood she had succeeded brilliantly, her unparalleled resource of experience married to a drive for work that admitted no other aspect of life. She had no interest in creating a home, in dating, in hobbies, in anything but work. She discovered early on the deep thrill of danger, the fact that being in a potentially life-threatening situation focused the mind wonderfully. Impossible to think of a broken heart, of a lost love, of words not spoken when you were trying to save your own skin and that of those around you. She knew that she had a reputation at Torchwood that verged on unflattering…only Mickey and Jake were true friends, while others feared or, at best, respected her. Certainly no one doubted her courage, even if they questioned her motives for it. "Rose Tyler, adrenaline junkie," some said. She developed a track record of not being hurt on the most dangerous missions, and of bringing her team back alive (although they did occasionally get hurt). She began to feel invincible. The less she cared about living, it seemed, the more she strode unscathed through ridiculous situations.

Then the development of the dimension cannon had begun. It had been conceived as a way to follow aliens–hostile or friendly–into other worlds, but she quickly saw it as a possible route back to the Doctor. She had been instrumental in its development and even more so in its testing. Despite Pete's objections, and Mickey's, and Jake's (Jackie had never been fully informed), she insisted on being the guinea pig. Who else had more reason to take the genuine risks? And here her luck with injury had run out. She had been hurt on a number of early jumps, culminating with the fifth one. The team had been so worried about dramatic accidents–putting her out in the middle of a concrete block and being frozen forever, or in a volcano, or in deep space–that they had failed to think of the more mundane danger that she would be put down in a busy street. That had probably been the worst injury, when she had come bursting at a run out into an intersection and been struck by a car. Broken bones, surgery, and three months out of action. It had almost been funny, though–to jump universes and die in a car smash. But they had refined the navigational systems and she had stopped being hurt, but then there was the maddening and heart-breaking process of her near-misses with the Doctor, of finding Donna and having to correct that timeline, of seeing the Doctor on various screens and not being seen. That last was the worst, almost like a sick intensification of her experience of the last four years–thinking of him, seeing him in her mind, but being unable to touch or interact or figure out if he was looking for her.

Then things had begun to move with blinding speed. Seeing him at the end of that street, outside the blue box with Donna. Running to him. Finally, she thought. But then, the Dalek, the shot, the near-regeneration. She had been able to hold him after that, but only for a moment, before they plunged off to defeat the Daleks and Davros and had reunited with their friends and left them each behind in succession and then…he had brought her back to Bad Wolf Bay. And here, sitting in the bathtub in the Tyler mansion, Rose began to shake her head. Because she didn't understand it. She had fought so hard. Sacrificed so much to return to him. And he had refused to tell her he loved her and had left her again on that beach. How? Her mind stuck. How? And what of the Doctor in blue who had been left with her, who had told her he loved her and whom she had kissed in almost instinctive response to those words? What was he? What could they be to each other?

**Finally she** emerged, red and pruny but warm, from the tub. She dried herself and wrapped herself in the robe, and, feeling lightheaded, sat heavily on the edge of the bath. "Does it need saying?" Really, if he had tried with both hands, could he have said something crueler to her? He, who knew that his own words had been cut off almost four years earlier, denying her the bit of comfort that hearing it said would have given. Did it need saying? "Rose Tyler, I…love you." She had lived and breathed and ate the assumption that those had been the words lost to her when the connection cut out the first time on Bad Wolf Bay. Had not eaten much else, in fact. Had breathed out of habit. Had lived…well. Depends on the definition, doesn't it? "Rose Tyler, I…love you." But now that assumption, that lifeline, was broken. He had not only left her again, he had managed to reach back four years and shatter that article of faith she had clung to for so long. Neat work, even for a Time Lord with a penchant for destruction. What had he meant to say on that day years ago? "Rose Tyler, I…have enjoyed your company"? "Rose Tyler, I…think you have a lovely personality"? She began, suddenly, senselessly, to giggle at the thought of the Doctor mouthing all the classic brush-offs of her universe. "Rose Tyler, I…think you have such a pretty face but…"? "Rose Tyler, I…just can't see myself settling down now"? "Rose Tyler, I…think we need to see other people"? "Rose Tyler…it's not you, it's me"? She began to laugh louder, as the phrases ran faster through her head. And then she wasn't laughing anymore, not really, but crying, sobbing, and making terrible gulping noises. Somehow she was on the tile floor, straining for air, her throat tearing from the effort of trying to get the sobs under control. The soap dish had fallen when she did and shattered, and now her hand was cut and her red blood was on the floor and she couldn't stop staring at the contrast of the white tile and the redness and she couldn't catch her breath.

The door burst open. She expected Jackie's voice to ring out in frustration and concern, but instead he was there, down on his knees next to her, gathering her up tightly into his embrace. She clutched at him and buried her face in the shoulder of his blue suit, rough with salt and smelling like the airplane and…well, like a man who needed a bath himself. Had the Doctor ever smelled, she asked herself, focusing her mind on this mundane matter to try and calm herself. Still he held her as her sobs lessened and finally hiccupped to a stop. She drew back and stared at him for a moment, meeting his eyes levelly, as he met hers. Then he noticed the blood. "Rose, what did you do?"

"I knocked down the soap dish and it broke as I fell…must have cut myself when I caught myself on the floor. I don't think it's serious." She couldn't help but smile a little as he pulled out a pair of his familiar geeky glasses and pushed them on his nose, grasped her hand, and inspected it with concern. Identifying the extent of the cut, he reached back into his suit jacket again, and this time she gasped aloud as he pulled out the sonic screwdriver and pointed it at her hand. The cut healed in seconds.

"What…where did you get that?"

His lips quirked. "Nicked it from the TARDIS."

"You didn't!"

"Did. Partly mine anyway, and it'll be easier for him to build another one than it would be for me."

"That's brilliant! Anything else you were left with?"

He gazed at her. "Well. That depends, I guess."

She met his gaze in confusion for a moment and then realized–he meant her, but clearly didn't know what he had in her, or if he had anything. She continued to stare at him, really drinking in the sight of him, in a way she had not done since his creation. He was mussed and visibly tired. His eyes were a bit red. His hair was flatter than usual. Fine wrinkles were visible around his eyes and the corner of his mouth. He had a five o'clock shadow. All in all, despite the fact that they were identical, he looked distinctly different from the Doctor, who was always smooth and boyish and perfect. This man looked older, tired, sad. He was also, she realized, the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. The small imperfections only added to his beauty in her eyes. His enormous dark eyes, the full lower lip, the delicate features, the gravity and weariness–all of them made him seem more touchable, more real, more…beautiful was the word that came to mind again.

He spoke first. "What are you thinking?"

She smiled and shook her head, disengaging her hand from his and reaching for the washcloth hanging on the side of the tub. "I must look a mess. Sorry to fall apart like that."

"Rose, I think if anyone in this universe has a right to fall apart this evening, it would be you. And the second person with that right might be me. And I think I might just do so if I can't talk to you now about what has happened. Please, tell me what you're thinking."

She scrubbed the remnants of tears from her face with the still-damp washcloth and met his eyes. "I don't suppose you'd buy that I'm all right? That I'm always all right?"

He smiled wanly at her. "I invented that."

"Yes, I suppose you did." Her instinct was to evade, however. Not talking about how she felt–being always all right–had been part of her coping mechanism in recent years. If you can't fix something, if you can't heal feelings, why discuss them? She was so afraid to open herself to him now, especially when she wasn't sure what she was really feeling.

But then she thought of the painful silences of her time with the Doctor, of the things left unsaid…does it need saying…and she made up her mind that there were things worse than the pain of honesty, even if honesty brought rejection. She looked him in the eye and went for the unvarnished truth. "I think I have never seen a more beautiful sight than you here on the floor of this bathroom. The Doctor, but human–tired like me, and confused like me, and sad like me. Part of me–a large part of me–wants nothing more than to reach out and hold you and kiss you again." She saw his eyes move briefly to her mouth and his breathing increase in rate.

She continued, "But I also feel like I did when I saw you–him–on the screen of Wilf and Sylvia's computer but you couldn't see me. Like I can see happiness but can't touch it. And I feel so…angry. So angry with him–or you–for leaving me again. For leaving me with a copy." His breath hissed in. "I'm sorry. I'm trying to be honest with you."

"No, Rose, that's what I want. Why wouldn't you feel that?"

"Did you decide together? To have you stay with me? Or did he make this decision for you as well?"

The human Doctor sighed. "I knew he would want to put me in a different universe, to get the genocidal maniac away from the scene of the crime..."

Rose interrupted him. "That makes two of us, you know. I'm a genocidal maniac too. Bad Wolf, and all that."

He grinned. "This universe better watch out, with the two of us around." The smile fell. "But I assumed he would keep you with him. He was careful to hide his thoughts about you from me. When he started to say…what he said on the beach, I couldn't quite believe…well, I couldn't quite believe my luck. Because I have all his memories of you, all his emotions about you, and…well, I meant what I said on the beach, Rose. I love you. And the idea that I would have you with me, or at least have a chance to have you with me…"

"If it's his emotion that you have, why couldn't he tell me?"

"I don't know. I couldn't not tell you. Maybe that's the human side–Donna in me. He keeps these things under better control. Or maybe he thought he was being unselfish, giving you reason to want to stay with me."

"I suppose, for me, the last one is the best one to believe. To believe that he did it out of love for me."

He sighed. "I wish he hadn't said what he did, though, about you fixing me. Like giving you a little project to keep you busy. It's insulting to you and to me. It's not easy being offered as a consolation prize for losing the man you really love."

She reached out and took his hand again, staring owlishly at him. "Something like being offered as a consolation prize for losing the entirety of time and space?"

He gazed back at her, and he didn't smile, but the warmth of recognition and understanding filled his eyes. "Yes," he said, and the tone of his voice made her heart jump. "Something like that, I would imagine."

Her lips parted and she felt breathless. She wanted him, she realized. He had all the physical appearance of the man she had longed for but had already–in the space of a few minutes–showed a level of empathy and a vulnerability that the Doctor had never been able to do. And was there any reason why she couldn't reach out to him and draw him to her and take some joy from this horrible day? Her hand moved up, almost without her realizing it, and stroked his cheek. He froze, his eyes on hers. Her fingers caressed his sideburn and travelled down over his lips. At that he reached up and grasped her hand, turning it and kissing her palm. She shuddered at the sensation this evoked. She began to lean forward to bring her mouth to his when suddenly the significance of her own words occurred to her. She had been given to him as a compensation for time and space. How long, then, before he tired of her? Before she was not enough? Before he left her too? She stiffened and pulled away.

He watched with dismay as her eyes changed and her face closed down. She pulled away from him and stood up. "Thank you for helping with my cut. I'm sure you need a bath and sleep as much as I do. There should still be hot water. We can talk more in the morning." She bent to gather up the broken glass and wiped up the smears of blood on the floor with the washcloth she still held. Then she was gone, closing the door between her room and the bathroom.

He sighed. His room was on the other side of the bathroom, sharing it with Rose's room. He turned on the taps and drew himself a bath. It did indeed feel good to wash, although lying where he knew Rose had lain naked recently did nothing for the physical manifestations of desire that her light touch had awakened in him. He closed his eyes. The intense love contained in his Time Lord brain and memories was now married to a human body, hormones, and single heart. This was going to be a dangerous combination.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

**When he** made it to bed, he fell asleep almost instantly and did not wake for hours. Unheard of as a Time Lord, but nonetheless it was still dark outside his window when he stirred. He looked at the clock. Six AM. He recognized immediately that he would not sleep any further, so he got out of bed and dressed quickly in the blue suit again, for want of anything else to wear. He went downstairs to make tea, expecting to find no one else awake, and was surprised to see light in the kitchen and find both Pete and Rose at the kitchen table, fully dressed and eating breakfast. Rose looked stunning, in this new mode her beauty had taken: sleek and polished. Gone were the heavy makeup and youthful clothing and (he remembered affectionately) obvious dye job. In their place was golden brown hair (her natural color, he wondered?), makeup done carefully and with a light enough touch to be barely noticeable, and an expensive-looking pantsuit. She had yet to see him, and yet even in repose, at breakfast with her stepfather, she looked guarded. Finally, Rose noticed him in the doorway and to his relief smiled at him, although she looked surprised. "I thought you'd sleep longer. There's tea in the pot under the towel on the counter."

"I had no idea anyone would be awake. Why are you up?"

"Pete and I are going in to Torchwood. He has a regular day and I want to check on things and report about the…the mission to the other universe." He didn't miss the pause as she strove for neutral words to describe the events of the past days. She spoke again: "What do you want to do today? You could come in with us. Pete could start the process of getting you squared away with identification and papers, and you could look around Torchwood, see what you think." Again, he knew the unspoken thought–see if he wanted to work there. She would know that he had a visceral reaction against that, but she had also told him that Torchwood in this universe was different, that Pete had worked hard to make it different after his experience with what the Torchwood in her original universe had done. Certainly it was worth a look, and frankly he wanted to be where she was. He smiled, therefore, and agreed to come. If he blamed the original Torchwood for separating him and Rose, he supposed it was only fair to credit this one for helping to reunite them. He was rewarded with a brilliant grin from Rose and an appraising glance from Pete over the top of his newspaper.

**The Doctor** had returned from what seemed like hours of paperwork with Ianto Jones, setting up his new identity as Dr. John Smith. Ianto had been charming and efficient, but still the details and the sheer number of forms to be filled out had been enervating. He was glad to be relaxing now in Jake's office over cups of tea. He had liked Jake the previous times he had met and worked with him, so long ago now, and since then Jake had matured into an even more impressive figure–smart, well-spoken, capable, but with an endearing frankness and a quickness to laugh that evoked the punky kid he had been. Furthermore, Jake had been Rose's partner at Torchwood for years, her closest friend besides Mickey, and the Doctor drank up any reminiscences Jake offered about the times they had spent together. It was also, he had to admit, comforting to be with someone who knew the complexity of the situation, who knew who he was and didn't require a half-hour to be brought up to speed.

The Doctor was halfway through his cup of tea when Jake's phone rang and he picked up. "Rose, hi…yes, he's here with me. Paperwork done and we're just having a cuppa. Oh really, where? OK…. OK…" Jake was listening carefully, making notes on a yellow lined pad on his desk. "Yeah, that sounds like the most likely possibility. Do you need me? Sure? You'll take Geoff then? And a skeleton team? OK, well, if you need backup, buzz me. Don't do anything stupid." He hung up with a smile on his face.

The Doctor asked, "What was that about?"

"We had a call into the public hotline about a UFO. Sounds like something we've dealt with before, so she's going to take out a skeleton crew and check it out."

"Oh." The Doctor paused and considered the surge of pride and the simultaneous jolt of fear that had gone through him at the thought of Rose leading a team and putting herself in danger. Jake read his face with ease.

"She's an old pro at this point, Doctor, and she has others watching her back."

"Thanks, Jake." They sat in silence for a few minutes as Jake completed his notes and turned on the computer to open a file on the call Rose was investigating. After a time, a dark-haired young man stuck his head around the corner of Jake's office door. His hair was combed back from a handsome face and he wore a rather tight shirt, revealing that he was well muscled. Something about him caused the Doctor's hackles to rise immediately–perhaps the look on Jake's face at the sight of the man–but he tried to ignore this, at least until the man spoke.

"Jake, did you hear, Rose's headed out on a recon?"

"Of course I heard, Glenn, she called me first. You know how these things work."

"Yeah, sure. You want to contribute to the Rosie pool?"

"Never have, Glenn, and never will, you know that," said Jake, his jaw tightening. "I've told you not to ask me about that again."

"What's the Rosie pool?" asked the Doctor.

Glenn turned his eyes on the Doctor for the first time. "Hey, didn't notice you there. I'm Glenn."

"John Smith. What's the Rosie pool?"

"Glenn…" Jake said warningly, but Glenn did not seem to notice the tone.

"You met Rose Tyler yet?" The Doctor nodded. "Yeah, she's hard to miss, isn't she?" asked Glenn, a slight leer in his eyes. The Doctor's dislike of the man ratcheted up a notch or two. "Well, she leads a recon team. Always picks the dangerous assignments and always walks away unscathed. Not that her team always does…"

"Rose has never lost a team member and you know that, Glenn," said Jake, sounding angry.

"Yeah, but more than one has come back with burns and broken bones. Anyway, it's gotta be only a matter of time before it catches up to her and she doesn't stroll back in one piece, so some of us bet on it every time she goes out. A quid each time. It's up to almost a thousand now."

The Doctor stared, not fully comprehending at first. "You're betting in order to profit if Rose…if Rose gets hurt?"

Glenn shrugged. "If she does, we draw straws for who wins. Doesn't change what happens in the field, does it? Just a bit of fun."

The Doctor rose to his feet and Glenn instinctively stepped away from the look on his face; a glimpse of the Oncoming Storm. Jake rose too and said "Glenn, John is a friend of Rose's, so I'd scarper if I were you."

Glenn glared at Jake. "You could have said, Jake," he complained, but beat a hasty retreat. The Doctor, his hands balled into fists, wheeled on Jake, his voice coming in a shout. "You let this thing go on? Why does he still work here?"

"Rose," Jake said simply.

The Doctor stopped. "What do you mean, Rose? She knows about this?"

"Absolutely. I found out about it when it started a couple years ago. Glenn started it out of spite, I think–he'd tried awfully hard to get Rose into bed and got exactly nowhere." The Doctor's fists re-clenched and he made a mental note to punch the man in the face if he saw him again. Jake continued, "So anyway, he started the pool and I told Rose about it immediately and intended to go to Pete that very same day, but she stopped me. Told me it didn't matter, that it didn't change anything in the field–just what Glenn said now–and that if we put a stop to it she'd look like she was crying to her daddy. She said…she said at least if she died someone would benefit."

The Doctor stared. "How could she say that? What would it have done to Jackie? To all of you, if she died?" To me, he didn't add. Didn't really have the right to, as much as he might feel it.

Jake sighed and sat back down. After a moment the Doctor followed him. "I don't think, Doctor, that you have a real sense of the state Rose has been in the past few years. Has anyone talked to you about it?" The Doctor shook his head no. "Well, the first months she stopped eating and had to be hospitalized for that. When she got her strength back she came to work here and threw herself into it like…well, like a woman with nothing else in her life, and with nothing to lose. Glenn's telling the truth–she always took the most dangerous assignments, always was first through the door. I can tell you that because I was usually right behind her, but the difference is I was scared out of my mind while Rose…well, in dangerous situations she was almost…peaceful. Serene. And she never got hurt. It's almost like she didn't care about dying and so death couldn't get her." Jake stopped abruptly.

"But…" The Doctor's head was reeling but he tried to organize his thoughts. "Someone…Pete maybe, in his office this morning…said something about Rose getting banged up using the dimension cannon."

Jake laughed harshly. "Banged up? Is that what he said?" He shook his head.

"Why? And why didn't Glenn know about that?"

"The whole dimension cannon thing was need-to-know. Glenn's pretty low-level here. Rose was just 'on assignment,' for months at a time."

"Ah. Why did you say that about Pete's phrasing…was she hurt badly?"

"She laughed about it, in hindsight. The developers were so worried they'd shoot her into a black hole that they didn't bother to make sure she wasn't shot into an intersection." The Doctor's eyes widened and he gripped the arms of his chair as Jake's voice continued inexorably. "She was hit by a car going pretty fast; we were never sure exactly because we weren't there. She insisted on being the guinea pig and going alone. But we saw her vitals go nuts and when we pulled her back…" Jake stopped and rubbed his face.

"When you pulled her back, what?"

"I'll never forget it. She looked like a broken doll. So much blood. Her one leg bent so wrong…" Jake looked sick just thinking about it and the Doctor's head began to spin. His fingers loosed their hold on his empty mug, which fell to the floor. In a moment Jake was by him, forcing his head between his knees. "It's ok, I got you."

The inverted position cleared the Doctor's vision and he sat up, meeting the eyes of the man now crouched before him. "Tell me the rest."

Jake stared steadily at him. "Haven't you seen the scars? She had five surgeries. She was laid up for three months."

"The scars? Where?"

"Mostly her thigh and torso; she doesn't wear skirts much anymore because of it…I just thought maybe you'd…well," Jake broke off, clearly uncomfortable.

"No, I haven't. We haven't."

"Ah. Well. Hopefully you have some sense now of how badly she wanted to get back to you."

"To him."

Jake gazed into his eyes. "He left her again. I know he had big universe-altering considerations to take into account, but to me, as her friend…" Jake broke off and to his surprise the Doctor saw tears form in the young man's eyes. Jake cleared his throat and continued. "She's one of the best people I know, and she's been so hurt, by the universe and by him. Maybe you should try being worthy of what she tried to give him, since–in my mind–he proved himself not to be."

The Doctor stared back at Jake, considering. "I'd like to try to be. But I'm not sure what she wants."

"She's probably not sure either, right now. Give her time. She spent years trying to tamp down hope, and then with the dimension cannon it all flared up again. I'm sure this isn't how she expected it to turn out."

"No, I imagine not."

"And remember that now Mickey's gone too, which is harder on her than she'll let on." Jake saw the Doctor's face tighten a bit and held up his hand. "It's not like that, Doctor. They never were lovers again. They developed into the very best of friends, really more like brother and sister. They'd known each other since they were little kids, you know? Mickey told me–after a while, after he got over her entirely–that he thought they were never really meant to be romantically involved. Mickey dated other people while he was here, although none really stuck. Rose never did, although plenty tried."

Jake's phone rang in the silence that followed. He stood up from his crouch by the Doctor's chair and crossed to the desk, answering it. "Yes? Rose? What's up? Really? OK, are you coming back in? Great. I'll meet you in the armory. Yeah, I'll bring your clothes." Jake hung up and turned to the Doctor. "Turns out the unidentified disturbance is, unfortunately, a different species than we thought, but one we know. Very aggressive types. Rose is coming in with the team to arm and pick me up and we're going to head back out. You want to come down with me and see her before we go?"

The Doctor nodded and followed Jake out the door.

**Jake and** Rose had conferred briefly and then the blond man, with a smile at the Doctor, had left to organize the weapons for the team. Rose beckoned for the Doctor to follow her into what proved to be a locker room. "I'll probably be out for just a few hours for this, but I want to hear how your day went. I'm sure it was a lot of paperwork." She stepped around the other side of a bank of lockers to change.

The Doctor sat on a bench and leaned up against the metal behind him. "To say the least. Ianto is nice, though–he picked me up from Pete's office and spent much of the day with me. Made it go as smoothly as possible. And I had tea with Jake then. Got to catch up a bit."

"Jake told me you met Glenn. Sorry about that; not the best Torchwood has to offer."

"Yes. He came around looking for contributions to the Rosie pool."

"Typical. Still hasn't figured out that Jake's the last person to contribute to that."

"I nearly punched him. I might still, if I see him again. Harder to control emotions in this body." There was silence on the other side of the lockers. "Rose, Jake told me you put up with that. That you actually stopped him from getting the guy fired. Why in the world would you do that?"

He heard her sigh and she stepped around the lockers. Gone was the pantsuit, replaced by cargo pants and boots and a sports bra. She was holding a long-sleeved gray t-shirt in her hand, in front of her torso. She looked at him. "It wasn't worth the uproar it would have caused."

"He's betting on your life, Rose. On your body being hurt."

She puffed air out. "I know, Doctor, I know. On one level, it's repulsive. But if it makes you feel better, he started it because he was mad I wouldn't sleep with him."

"Mmm. Marginally. How hard did he try?"

"Ended up kneeing him in the groin so hard he was looking for his balls for days."

Perhaps she expected a smile, but the Doctor only looked down with an anguished face. She moved toward him. "Doctor, listen. The real reason I put up with it was that I thought, what the hell did it matter?"

"What do you mean, what did it matter?" His voice sounded strangled.

"I had a run of luck. Some team members got hurt but none seriously. I was… untouchable, it felt like. I never flinched. It was like a high. So I was always first through the door, first out there on the dangerous missions. Some of the boys were threatened by that, but the good ones–Mickey, Jake, Geoff–never were, so I didn't care. Better me than anyone else. And if it helped assuage the testosterone-soaked pride of men like Glenn to wager on me, then fine."

"Better you? Why better you?"

"Doctor…"

"No, I'm serious. I could have lost you on any of those missions! I could lose you today! Why, better you?"

Her face turned stony. "You had already lost me, Doctor. And I had lost you…or him. My father wasn't my father, my mother had a new baby. What justified me…taking up space in this universe? If I could take the fire, instead of someone invested in being here, then why not?"

He stood abruptly, stepped toward her, and grabbed her arm, pulling her toward him, more roughly than he intended. "Don't ever say that. It's not fair to Jackie or to…to anyone else who loves you."

"You're the one who taught me to be on the front line, Doctor." She pulled away and with that movement the t-shirt fell from her hand. His mouth gaped as he saw her bare midsection for the first time. He registered first the pull her skin had for him, his desire to touch her, but then saw the massive scarring on her right side. A large incision scar plus evidence of healed trauma, white and red. He knew that he stared and he must have blanched. She stepped back and quickly reached for the shirt on the floor, pulling it on.

"Is that…from the dimension cannon test?"

She strove for lightness, but her voice was taut. "Yep. The fifth jump. Rose Tyler versus moving vehicle. Match went to the vehicle."

He couldn't help it. He reached out for her, gently this time, and drew her to him. Ignoring the stiffness of her body, he wrapped his arms around her and rested his chin on the top of her head. "I'm sorry that you went through so much to find me again. And I'm so glad you did it."

"I wasn't looking for you, I was looking for him," she corrected him. She paused, and he went rigid, afraid she'd pull away again, but slowly her body relaxed and her arms came up around him and she held him close. "But I'm glad I found you."

He was almost shaking with happiness at her words and her closeness. He opened his mouth to speak again when Jake's voice was audible at the locker room door. "Rose? We're ready."

"I'll be there in two minutes, Jake," she called. She sighed and stepped away from him, her brown eyes on his. "We can talk more about this when I get back, Doctor. I shouldn't be too long, as I said. You want to wait here for me, or take a taxi home?"

"I'll wait here. Rose, I…I wish you would stay with me. I wish you wouldn't go."

"Don't worry, Doctor." She flashed him a smile that made his heart skip. "Rose Tyler, defender of the Earth, yeah? I'll be fine. And Jake's with me. And the team." He nodded, and she smiled suddenly. "Thanks, by the way, for saying it like that. 'I wish you would stay.' The Doctor…the other Doctor would have ordered me."

"Not in much of a position to give orders, am I?"

She gazed at him and did not answer. Instead, she circled around the lockers to her formal clothes. Following her, he saw her digging in a pocket. She came out with a key ring and handed it to him, holding it by one key. "This is the key to my office. Fourteenth floor. There's a refrigerator with drinks and a couch and a computer. You can wait there, if you want. I'll come find you when I'm done."

He took the keys, trying to ignore the feeling of panic and impotence he felt standing there as she prepared to leave. "Thanks."

She hesitated, then stepped toward him and placed a gentle kiss on his cheek before heading out the door.

But it was Jake, in the end, who came to find him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

**He had **tried to stay awake but had ended up falling asleep, stretched out awkwardly on Rose's couch. Well, couch might be generous. Glorified armchair, really. One of his legs was hooked over the chair's arm at the knee, the other stretched out awkwardly on the ground, all to keep his head from being uncomfortably cricked at the other end. But still, his weariness had caught up with him and he was deep asleep when he felt a hand on his arm. Swimming back to consciousness, he smiled before opening his eyes. "Rose?"

"Doctor? It's Jake."

His eyes snapped open. Jake was kneeling on the floor next to him, and looked a mess. Dirty, sweated, with–the Doctor's heart sank–a blood smear on his shirt. "Where is Rose? Is she all right?"

"She's in the infirmary. I'll take you."

Panic rose and he sprang up, feeling dizzy for a moment. "What happened?"

"The creature had a blaster. She was first in the door. It hit her in the arm. It's not life-threatening, but she's in a lot of pain."

"Oh no. Rose. I need to see her."

"I know. She told me not to get you until she's fixed up, but that's because she wants to spare you. I know she wants you and needs you. Are you OK to go?"

Impatiently he spat out, "yes, let's go now."

Jake led him to the elevator, which descended into the sub-basement, and when the door opened the Doctor was faced with a gleaming hallway. Jake said, "This is the infirmary. Come this way." The Doctor followed him as he jogged down the hall, passing a line of closed doors. Up ahead, at the end of the hall, he saw one door open on the left, and people in scrubs going in and out. There was the general sound of activity from that direction, and then a sound he had not heard in a long time but recognized immediately, his body freezing. Rose screamed.

His immobility lasted only for a moment–the moment it took for her short cry to die away. Then he rocketed past Jake the rest of the way down the hall and into the room, where he found Rose on a gurney–strapped to a gurney–being worked over by two figures–doctors, he presumed. She was still wearing her cargo pants but her t-shirt was in tatters, cut open along one side to allow them full access to her arm. Her arm…he felt a terrible wave of nausea and had to fight hard to suppress it when he saw the burned flesh. Coming back to his senses he saw that the reason Rose was strapped down was that she was writhing in agony, gasping, her eyes closed and her face a color he hoped never to see again, a terrible white with green underneath. He rushed to her side, away from the wounded arm, near her head. "Rose, it's me. Hold on."

The medics working on her glanced up and then at Jake, who had entered a few paces behind him. Jake gave them a small nod and they immediately returned to their work. One of them said, "we've just given her a painkilling shot. Should kick in any minute. She's been very brave. You've been very brave, Rose. We have you."

Rose seemed not to have heard either them or him. She was not making any noise now except a low, agonized moan, her teeth clenched on her lower lip so hard he saw blood. He couldn't stand it. Not thinking, as part of an inborn instinct, he laid his forehead on hers and ran his hands up the sides of her face, cupping her head gently, touching his fingers lightly to her temples.

What happened was nothing like what he could have done if he were still fully Time Lord. He could have immediately stopped her pain receptors then. But even now, with his limited abilities, he was able to flicker in her mind, draw her brain's attention away from its full focus on her pain, distracting her enough to allow her to release her lip and manage the pain better as she waited for the drug they had given her to take effect. She opened her eyes, and he felt tears fill his own at the agony he saw in them. She said quietly, "Doctor? Is it you? Is this a dream?"

"Rose, no, it's not a dream…it's me…the…human Doctor." He had almost said "fake Doctor," but why give word to his fears about her perception of him?

She moaned again in pain but then her lips curled in something resembling a smile. "New new new Doctor," she gasped out, and this time his tears overflowed. She opened her eyes again, and slowly began to breathe more easily.

"I think," she said after a moment, "the drugs are kicking in. She took a few deep breaths and he watched, fascinated, as her composure snapped back into place, at least partially. "Keith, was anyone else injured?"

One of the men working on her arm snapped, "Blimey, Rose. Give it a rest for a minute and let us tend to you, OK?"

She huffed in frustration, then noticed Jake standing a few feet away. "Jake? Was anyone else hurt?"

"Just you, Rose."

"OK, then. Keith, how bad is it?"

"You'll live, Rose, unless you don't shut up and let me work."

She laid her head back, clearly not good at being passive. Then she turned her eyes to the Doctor again and saw the tears on his face. "God, Doctor, I'm sorry. I told Jake…Jake, I TOLD you not to bring him until I was under control."

Jake opened his mouth to answer but the Doctor interrupted, "Jake thought that order as ridiculous as I do. As if I would want to be anywhere else."

She met his eyes. "What you did, with my mind, and just being here, it helped. Thank you."

Keith muttered something inaudible in frustration, then said, "Rose, this is a bad burn. I'm going to need to wrap it and figure out what to do. How did you ever get blasted at such close range?"

The Doctor stood upright, suddenly embarrassed that he hadn't acted sooner. He had been so distracted by Rose's pain and his own emotions. He said, "I can probably help with that, if you let me, Rose."

She looked at him. "You have the sonic with you?"

"Of course."

She turned to the medic. "Keith, the Doctor has a piece of technology that will do a lot more for the healing than our stuff can. Do you mind?" At first, the Doctor bridled at her asking the man's permission, but he quickly recognized the wisdom of it. Everyone is territorial about having their expertise questioned…his Rose was always so much better with people than he. His Rose. So badly hurt…no. He would deal with his own emotions on the subject later.

Keith stepped aside and the Doctor pulled up a stool, perched on it and put on his glasses. He took out the sonic and tried to consider the burn wound on Rose's arm clinically. The bone was intact, and thankfully some of the muscle, which he could clearly see in the heart of the wound. Rose's poor arm…later, he told himself, fighting down nausea again. It would be a matter of healing the damaged muscle and then the skin, layer by layer. "This will take some time but it should be doable. Did you give her enough painkiller to last an hour?"

Keith nodded.

"OK, well, it's just methodical work on my part then. You can leave us." He realized he sounded brusque and added, "please." The two medics turned, Keith remarking that they would be in the office down the hall writing up Rose's chart if they were needed. The Doctor turned to Jake. "Can you call Jackie and Pete? I'm sure they'll want to come and see her." Jake gave a wordless indication of assent and left. The Doctor snicked on the sonic, adjusted it to the setting he wanted, and started in on the end of the wound nearest her elbow. After a minute of work, realizing that her arm was responding as he expected and it would only be a matter of time and patience in healing it, he relaxed a bit. He then realized that Rose had been silent for a long time. He looked up and found her gazing at him, her eyes fixed on him, her face inscrutable. He raised his eyebrows at her in silent inquiry.

"We have to stop meeting like this," she murmured.

"What?"

"Me with chunks out of me, you with a sonic."

"Ah. Yes, I actually wouldn't mind having a day where I didn't see any of your blood."

"You really seemed like him for a bit there, issuing your orders."

"I am him."

"In some ways, yes, I see that."

He sighed. He supposed this was as good a time as any to have this conversation. "Not in some ways, in most. In all the good things about me. Only they're limited now." He exhaled again, thinking of the crushing impotence he had felt when he had tried to soothe her mind.

"No."

He looked up, startled. "What do you mean, no?"

"I mean no. I've already seen some of the differences between you and him. Your gentleness with me. Your vulnerability. Your…humanity, I guess. I understand that you see those things as weaknesses. I think, if you had asked me three days ago, I might have said they were too, that I…that I would think less of a Doctor with human qualities like that. But now that you're in front of me… I don't."

He sat perfectly still, listening to her words. His hand holding the sonic continued its slow movement almost automatically, doing the work while allowing him to stare at her. He felt breathless. "Rose…"

She met his gaze and then suddenly seemed to lose her nerve, looking away. "How's that arm doing? Can I admit to you that I haven't had the guts to look at it?"

He shook himself and re-focused his gaze on her wound. The healing was progressing. "Probably a good choice. It's a nasty one. But it should be all healed up in less than an hour. You will have a scar though. I might be able to work further on that later, if you want." She was silent in response to this for some minutes, and he continued working.

"What's the point?" He looked up, startled, at the sudden emotion in her voice. She was looking down, and he saw a tear drop on her lap.

"Rose? What did I say?"

"Doctor, it's OK. It's just…my body's such a mess of scars now. Not like what you remember, I'm afraid. Not that you…you know, when I would wear a bikini and stuff. Well, you saw my stomach earlier. What's the point of avoiding one more?"

He didn't know what to say. Was she angry at him for the scars she got trying to get back to him…the other him? He felt he didn't have the emotional resources to try to sort it out and focus on healing her arm properly, so he opted for silence, continuing his work. He heard her sniffle for a moment but then she went quiet. He risked a glance up and saw her eyes were closed, and her head lay back on the pillow.

**The work**, as he promised, took about an hour. Her arm was now closed and looked raw and angry but healed. She had dozed, as an effect of shock and painkillers, for much of the process but awakened when he released her arm. He stripped away the gauze and bandaging that had been partially blocking her view of it and she looked down. She said, "thank you, Doctor. No one here could have done as well as that."

He pulled his stool closer to her bedside and sat again. "Can I get you anything? Food? Drink?"

"I imagine, if Jake went to call my mum, that she'll be here any minute, shrieking and with every provision imaginable in tow. Can you just sit with me until then?"

"Of course." He deliberated for a moment, then reached out and covered the hand of her injured arm with his. Her fingers curled around his, and after a moment, she lifted her good arm and brushed the hair out of his eyes before cupping his cheek.

"I'm sorry you had to see me like that, Doctor."

"I am too. I wish you had stayed."

"Still, better me than…"

"No Rose. Not better you. I'm glad no one else was hurt, but not better you. Never better you." His voice had not risen but she blinked at the intensity in it. He drew a deep breath before continuing. "What happened? What happened to your 'run of luck', as soon as I arrive?" He couldn't keep the bitterness out of his tone.

Her good hand, which had dropped from his cheek, raised again and tipped his chin up to look at her. "I went through the door first, as always. I saw him, the alien, and saw the blaster pointed at me. Nothing much new there. Happened a million times before. But I reacted differently. I froze. I…I thought about…I didn't want to die. And for the first time, I didn't know what to do. I recovered quickly enough, of course, but it gave him time to get off the shot. Then Jake took his weapon out."

"What did you think about?" She looked down, dropping her hand and seeming reluctant to meet his eyes. "Rose," he said insistently. At that, her eyes returned to his. She took a deep breath.

"I thought about you. I didn't want to die because…I wanted to see you again. I wanted to come back and find you waiting for me in my office."

So simple a statement, he thought, to bring such a rush of emotions in its wake. His stupid eyes began to brim with tears again; as, he saw, did hers. Both of them gave short, watery laughs at the sight of each other's distress, and then he was leaning toward her, staring at her beautiful mouth and hoping to kiss her. It was, of course, at that moment that her mother's voice echoed down the hallway. Gratifyingly, Rose swore as she leaned back in the bed.

Jackie and Pete, trailed by Jake, arrived at a run and rushed to Rose's bedside as the Doctor stepped away. Jake came forward to stand by him. "Her arm looks good, Doctor. She would have had weeks of healing if you hadn't been here."

"Yes." The Doctor was feeling lightheaded and a bit queasy from tiredness and lack of food. He wanted nothing more than to crawl into a bed. Or rather, to crawl into Rose's bed and wrap himself around her. He knew he would find it hard to sleep away from her, that he would dream of burns and cries and pain. But with her parents here–and with her feelings still unclear–that seemed unlikely. He wondered idly if the Torchwood infirmary had guest rooms.

Jake turned to him. "Why don't you and I go get something to eat and then come back and check on her again?" The Doctor nodded and the two men turned, ready to leave Rose to her parents' attentions for a time.

As they were about to leave, Rose, her voice noticeably more cheerful, called after them. "Jake, Doctor?" They turned. "Will you be back tonight?" Her eyes were fixed on the Doctor as she asked this.

"We're just going to get a bite in the caf. We'll be back to tuck you in," Jake responded with a grin.

She returned the grin wryly, and then said, "You realize that someone just won the Rosie pool, right? Hope it wasn't that slimeball Glenn."

Jackie looked nonplussed at her joke, while Pete grimaced and Jake shook his head, muttering, "Blimey, Rose." But for the Doctor, it was suddenly too much. Whether it was the thought of Glenn profiting from that gaping wound he had just healed, or one more instance of Rose's cavalier attitude to her own safety, or simply the two ridiculously long days he had endured, something in him snapped. He began to laugh, or gasp, or sob–his brain seemed detached and could not analyze the sounds coming from his own mouth. He felt his knees buckle, and a crushing wave of nausea come over him. He vaguely heard Rose call his name, and Jake caught his arm, and for the second time that night said, "C'mon Doctor, I got you."

**An hour** later he stood outside Rose's door again, feeling sheepish. He was embarrassed by how he'd reacted, how this silly body had reacted. Well, he thought wryly, now he knew how it felt to be sick. Not pleasant at all, though Jake had been brilliant. He could see why Rose cared for him so much, relied on him so heavily. Jake had steered him to a bathroom before he even knew what was happening, had waited for him to finish, supervised him when he rinsed his mouth, brushed his teeth, and washed his face, and then led him to an empty room with chairs. He had then disappeared, returning fifteen minutes later with a tray containing toast and some other mild foods, along with tea. The Doctor had looked at the food with horror but Jake had smiled and said, "trust me, mate. When you throw up because of a virus, you don't want food. When you throw up because of exhaustion and nerves, you want a little something in you to settle your stomach."

The Doctor grimaced. "These bodies are so complicated."

"You don't know the half of it," Jake replied breezily, handing him a square of toast. Jake had been right; he did feel much better with toast and sweet tea in him. Now he was standing outside Rose's door, steeling himself to go in. Jake had insisted that he go back to see her. "Jackie came down to the caf when I was making up the tray, told me that Rose was very upset, felt terrible for saying what she did, for upsetting you. Go see her before bed and you'll both sleep better." The Doctor saw the wisdom of it but still…not very manly, after all, collapsing over a silly joke. But he squared his shoulders and entered the room.

Rose was alone, propped up in the bed but asleep. He half-turned to leave again, but could not resist the prospect of sitting quietly with her for a moment, even if she was unconscious. He eased himself into the chair by her bedside and gently laid his hand over hers. Her eyes immediately fluttered open. "Doctor?"

"Shh, yes, it's me. I'm sorry, I tried not to wake you."

"Doctor, I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have joked like that, are you ok?"

"Yeah. Very dignified, right? Jake was so kind to me. Embarrassing, though."

She sat up and took both his hands. "Oh, don't worry about Jake. On the team, between us being tossed around and getting our heads knocked and getting one alien poison or another on us, it was a rare day one of us wasn't throwing up. He's a pro."

The Doctor was torn between comfort at her blithe dismissal of his embarrassing sickness and another stab of horror at the risks Rose apparently took on a near-daily basis. She saw the sobering of his face and sighed. "I can't seem to say the right thing tonight, can I? We both need some rest."

"I think you're right. Do you think they could scrounge me up a guest room or something? Or…where did your parents get to?"

"They left about fifteen minutes ago. I sent them home."

"Oh." Well, no lift back to the Tyler mansion then.

"Doctor…I don't want to impose…"

"What?"

"Do you think you could…would you…" she sighed. "Would you stay here with me? I mean, um, cuddle with me? I think I'd sleep better."

His mouth gaped. "I…" He couldn't seem to say anything more, and she quickly took his silence the wrong way.

"No, I was silly, sorry. No way you'd be comfortable in this little bed with me. Sorry. The front desk can arrange…" He reached for her hand and she stumbled to a stop.

"Rose, I can't think of anywhere I'd rather sleep than with you. Or anywhere I'd sleep better. But…uh…"

"What, Doctor?"

He ducked his head and ran his hand up the back of his neck and through his hair; her breath caught and she smiled at that familiar gesture of uncertainty.

"Doctor? Tell me."

He kept his head down but plunged ahead. "Well…uh. I've already told you I love you and…in this body I…uh. Feel that love very intensely? And uh… If I were right next to you, you might notice… " He raised his eyes to hers. "Could this night get more embarrassing?"

She was still smiling, but there was a hint of mischief to it now. "So you're saying that if you were cuddled up to me I might feel…evidence of your feelings?"

He caught the warmth and the amusement in her voice and his own lips began to curl. "Yeah."

"Well, will you be able to sleep and…keep it under control?"

"I think I won't be compelled to ravish you in your sleep, if that's what you mean."

Her smile got even wider. "Pity, that."

His eyebrows lifted sky-high. "Well, maybe when you're feeling better we can remedy that."

Her expression suddenly became very earnest. "Doctor, I can't make promises, but right now, I feel like I would like that. I mean, we need to get to know each other again, and you need to understand many things about me now…I'm damaged goods in a lot of ways and…oh, I'm babbling, aren't I?"

"Dunno. I lost focus at 'I would like that'."

She laughed loudly, the happiest and most relaxed sound he'd heard her make since his creation. "So I guess we've decided you're sleeping here tonight? Are you tired now?

"Oh yes!" He stood up and began to wrestle with his trainers, pulling off his button-down shirt and his belt. "Budge over," he commanded her.

She pressed a button to lower the bed to the flat position and turned on her side, facing away from him. He climbed in next to her and they melded their bodies together, her back pressing into his front. He kissed the back of her head and wrapped his arms around her. Closing his eyes, he felt the absolute joy of holding her to him, smelled her–her distinctive fragrance overpowering even the smell of the hospital. The peace in his soul at that moment was almost enough to make him start crying again. Rose, as if she'd read his thoughts, snuggled back into him even tighter and said, "This feels so wonderful, I want to cry."

"Enough crying for today, don't you think? But I know what you mean. You feel like heaven, Rose."

"You too."

"Goodnight, Rose."

"Goodnight, my Doctor."

He slept better than he would have thought possible in a small bed with scratchy hospital sheets. He had been right; physical closeness to Rose was the key to avoiding bad dreams. He awoke and tried to focus his eyes on the object in front of him; it turned out to be the top of Rose's head. She must have rolled over in the night and now lay facing him, her body slightly curled and her head tucked toward her chest, so he had a view of her part. He inhaled the scent of her hair and couldn't resist laying a gentle kiss on her head. She stirred. "Mornin'"

"Good morning. How did you sleep?"

"God, I must have slept so well. I can't remember anything since I said goodnight to you, Doctor." She extended her arms above her head and arched slightly, reaching her toes downward, stretching her whole body. When she came to rest again, they were laying face to face. She moved a hand up over her eyes. "I must look a sight."

"You look beautiful."

She laughed. "You, Doctor, have an uncritical eye if you think that."

"Not true!" His tone was offended. I have seen great beauties of thousands of species, and you, Rose Tyler, are beautiful to me."

"Even before I shower?"

"Even then."

"Hmm." She arched an eyebrow at him to convey her continued skepticism but the warmth in her eyes was unmistakable. "So, Pete informed me last night that I am going to take a mandatory two weeks leave from Torchwood to heal, even though I explained to him that you fixed my arm right up."

"Really?" He couldn't keep the delight out of his voice. "Whatever should we do with all that time?"

"Take you clothes shopping, for one. I think that blue suit has done its duty and is ready for an honorable retirement."

"Poor blue suit. Killed Daleks, crossed universes, healed Rose Tyler twice…yes, it's getting a bit mangy. And after we outfit me in a more appropriate manner? How do you feel, by the way?"

"Oh, fine. Skin's a bit tight and arm's a bit sore, but nothing serious."

"If you're fit, then, what did you have in mind for the two weeks?"

"Well, tell me what you think, if it's a bad idea."

"If what is a bad idea, Rose?"

"We have so much to catch up on, and so much to discuss. I feel like I want some peace and quiet with you, to try to see…who were are now, and who we could be. Would you like to…take a holiday? With me? Go somewhere together, maybe get a cottage, somewhere peaceful, where we can really talk?"

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment, inclining his head until his forehead met hers. "Rose, I can't think of anything I'd rather do." He opened his eyes and contemplated the lovely smile on her face. "Do you have any specific ideas for where we should go?"

"Maybe Scotland? It is lovely up there."

"Sure. No werewolves though."

"Quite." They grinned at each other.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

**Shopping for** clothes had been fun. More fun than she would have believed, in fact. He was built like a rail so everything fit and everything looked good. And unlike many men, who hated shopping and sulked, he was relishing the attention, preening shamelessly for her and for the sales staff, each of whom, as they moved from department to department and store to store, seemed to be infatuated with him. And, she thought, why not? He turned that wide-eyed brown gaze on each of them, male or female, and smiled joyfully at them, making them feel like the cleverest creature in the universe when they suggested a particular cut of trouser or shade of shirt. And then he looked devastating in each garment. Who wouldn't tumble headfirst into a crush, she thought magnanimously. Certainly she was not immune. When he would pause in the midst of all his activity, in the middle of being fawned over by an adoring salesperson, and fix his eyes on her in the mirror, training all that warmth on her, she responded body and soul. She needed, she realized, to be very careful. He was intoxicating–why deny it? But he was also the Doctor, and the Doctor had a history of leaving her behind, willingly or unwillingly. How long could this man do domestic? How long before the day-to-day drudgery of an ordinary life would drive him spare, even if he loved her, as he claimed to? Would he grow to hate her as the reason why he had lost the stars? It had been hard enough for her to accustom herself once again to a life of job, flat, and meals at regular times, and she had only traveled in the TARDIS for two years. What would it mean for him? And what about herself? If she gave in to him, let herself love him as she wanted to, and then he left her? What would that mean? How would she recover from that, put the pieces of herself back together a second time?

She sighed heavily, feeling a pall coming over her mood. Luckily, the Doctor chose that moment to emerge from the dressing room wearing a charcoal gray suit so smoothly cut as to make James Bond's heart melt with envy, complete with a crisp white shirt and a gorgeous lavender tie. This would have been a distraction on its own, but he was also carrying on a loud argument with the clerk about the appropriateness of wearing his battered Chucks with the ensemble. The young man was adamant that they were "ruining the effect" and the Doctor looked deeply affronted at the suggestion. The vision of the Oncoming Storm rising in defense of a pair of grimy red plimsolls was enough to disperse her incipient melancholy and bring a smile to her lips. The Doctor caught her eye and rolled his own exaggeratedly, but he recovered his good humor enough to buy the suit and tie, and together they dragged the many shopping bags home to her flat.

**Two days** later, with Rose having received an official clean bill of health from Keith and with a cottage in the west of Scotland having been arranged by Jackie via her posh travel agency, they headed north before sun-up with Rose driving one of Pete's several cars, a powerful Mercedes. The Doctor sat in the passenger seat. They had chatted animatedly as they left London but now, as the motorway extended before them, they each fell silent, occupied with their own thoughts. Eventually Rose glanced over and saw the Doctor had fallen asleep, lulled no doubt by the purring engine of the car. He was wearing a pair of dark blue jeans–the Doctor in jeans blew her mind on a number of levels–a burgundy button-down shirt and a gray wool sweater, all of which had been acquired on their recent shopping trip. He looked gorgeous, and the sun on his sleeping face highlighted every freckle dusting his cheekbones. Her heart swooped into her throat and she felt a moment of near panic. What had she been thinking, suggesting this trip? In a tiny cottage, alone with him, in the wilderness? Where, precisely, would she practice her favorite trick of hiding from emotional situations in this set-up? Jackie had been more than delighted when Rose had mentioned the idea to her. She had immediately insisted on ringing her travel agent and getting everything sorted. This had been accomplished within a couple of hours and Jackie had arrived at the flat with all the necessary information, including driving directions. "It's a two-bedroom cottage, sweetheart–I'm not sure if that's what you wanted but I figured better safe than sorry. You don't have to use both, after all!"

"God, Mum," Rose had groaned, but Jackie was persistent.

"Have you slept with him yet, Rose?"

"Mum, no! When would we have had time, exactly? I got my arm ripped open pretty much the minute I got back."

"Oh," Jackie waved a hand airily, "one can find time for these things."

"Well, we haven't. I'm not sure if I want to."

Jackie gave her a look. Or rather, A Look.

"Not that I don't want him, Mum. It must be obvious that I do. But that…well, it's Pandora's Box, isn't it? I mean, if I sleep with the Doctor, if I fall into a relationship with him, and then he leaves me…"

"What makes you think he would leave you? He chose to be here with you. To leave everything behind for you!"

"That's exactly it. How do I live up to that, Mum? I'm just me. Rose Tyler, former shop girl, and a bit battered up since he last knew me."

"Rose, you know there was a time when I wasn't the greatest fan of that man. But one thing I can say is that I don't think you were ever just a shop girl to him. And if this one says he loves you, and he stayed here for you, it seems like he wants to be with you."

"He does now, yeah. But he could get bored, get restless…"

"If every woman refused to get into a relationship because a man might 'get restless' someday, there'd be no relationships! The human race would die out!"

Rose chuckled. "Yeah. Well, we'll see how it goes it Scotland."

"Beautiful place, cozy cottage, peace and quiet, man of your dreams…what could go wrong?"

"Bite your tongue, Mum."

**They had** left early enough to miss London traffic and had only made brief pit stops along the way for snacks and to use the loo. Still, it was a full eight hours later, at tea-time, that they entered the wild beauty of Glen Coe. The Doctor was hunched over the driving directions that the cottage's owner had faxed to Jackie. At his instruction, Rose turned the car off the main road onto a smaller paved road, and then an even smaller unpaved one. Rose was grateful that September was a dry month in Scotland; the Mercedes was sturdy, but hardly an off-road vehicle. Still, the dirt road was surprisingly smooth and mounted the side of the glen in steady switchbacks. After a few minutes they saw the small white cottage above them on the hillside. Rose pulled the car into the small gravel drive in front of the house and they got out of the car, stretching their tense muscles. Both of them then fell silent, contemplating the stunning view before them, down the valley and over the River Etive. The late afternoon sun highlighted the undulating greens and browns of the mountainside. The air was so fresh and soft, like nothing Rose had ever felt on her face. She heard the Doctor exhale and he said, quietly, "Oh, well done Jackie!" He turned to her, a look of pure delight on his face. "We must ring and tell her how stunning this is!" Rose smiled at him and nodded, then turned to look at the charming little cottage behind her.

At that moment, the blue door of the cottage opened and a small gray-haired woman emerged. "Would you be Dr. and Mrs. Tyler?" she asked. Rose, undone by this appellation, froze in place with her mouth slightly open, but the Doctor merely grinned. "Tyler-Smith, actually," he said, throwing a wink in Rose's direction and extending his hand to the woman. But please call me John. And this is Rose."

"Welcome, John and Rose. I am Margaret, the caretaker for the house. What a lovely day you have for your arrival. Some days you can't even tell there's a glen below you from here, for all the fog and mist! But in all weather the cottage is cozy. Let me show you around and then I'll leave you in peace."

Jackie had indeed done well. The bones of the cottage were old, but it had undergone a thorough renovation and thus had all the creature comforts one could ask for. Two cozy bedrooms–with both double beds made up, the Doctor noticed with a stab of disappointment that he hoped didn't show in his face. Rose's countenance remained serene and unsurprised as she trailed behind Margaret. A luxurious bathroom between the two bedrooms, with an enormous bathtub and a separate shower. Downstairs, there was a main room with a fire already crackling in the fireplace, a small parlor, and a kitchen with a large wood table for meals as well as all the necessary fixtures. Margaret said, "Now, as part of the rental agreement I've stocked the fridge and pantry. There's the makings of a cold picnic dinner in the refrigerator, plus wine and champagne. Everything I think you will need for at least a day or so. There's a booklet on the table in the main room with all the information for shopping and activities. Here are the keys," she handed them over, "and if you don't have any other questions, I'll leave you be."

The Doctor accompanied Margaret out, and Rose heard him thanking her profusely. Rose took the opportunity to return to the fire and divest herself of her coat. She stood before the blaze, letting it warm her and moving her shoulders about, stretching after the long drive. She had driven all the way and her muscles ached. She did not hear the Doctor return, was not aware of his presence until his hands closed on her shoulders and he began to rub them. She froze at his touch, in part because she was wearing an off-the-shoulder sweater and so he was touching more of her skin than he had done before. He either did not notice her tension or chose to ignore it, and after a moment she relaxed, enjoying the feel of his fingers kneading her muscles. "This was a wonderful idea. And thank you for driving," he murmured.

"No problem. I should teach you soon so you can share the job."

"Yes."

His hands were doing wonderful things to her shoulders and she could feel him standing close behind her. She let her head fall back slightly, resting on his shoulder. It was at that moment that he bent his head and laid his lips at the base of her neck. The breath whooshed out of her and she seemed to be having trouble drawing it back in. He placed another kiss on the side of her neck, where it met her shoulder, and then slowly drew the tip of his tongue up to the corner of her jaw. At that, her body positively wrenched with a desire for him so profound that it scared her and she pulled herself away, breathing heavily and standing at an arm's distance. He said nothing but she heard his breathing, also strained. Finally, without meeting his eye, she said, "I'll see what Margaret left us in the way of tea," and made her escape to the kitchen.

He did not move as she left the room. He would follow her eventually, to help with the tea, but he needed a minute–or ten–to regain his composure. He couldn't imagine what had possessed him to do that; all he had managed to accomplish was to scare her and simultaneously to intensify his own desire, now that he knew what she tasted like, knew how the silky skin of her neck slid smoothly under his lips, knew what it felt like to have her body shudder against his. He was more aroused than he had been at any point in this new body, and that was saying something. After a time he had himself better under control and he moved to the kitchen. She was standing with her hands on the counter, leaning a bit forward. The kettle was on and a teapot sat on the counter with the lid off and an open box of tea next to it. She obviously heard him come into the room, as she said, "I'm sorry, Doctor. I know I'm sending you terribly mixed signals."

"It's okay, Rose."

"Is it? Really? Because I feel like a child, without the will to make some kind of decision, to either walk into your arms or let you go."

"Let me go?" And now, for the first time, she heard anger in his voice. "And where would I go? What exactly would I do, without you?"

"You'd be brilliant, as always. And women would fall over themselves to love you."

"Stop, Rose. Just stop. It's been a week since this whole thing happened. Why would you feel entirely comfortable with me yet? But don't say something you don't mean, or talk like it would be easier for me to be without you, just because you feel like it'd be simpler that way."

"Doctor…"

"No, Rose. Stop. No more of that."

She did not answer him, but nodded silently in acknowledgment. She switched off the now-whistling kettle and poured the water into the teapot, replacing the lid. Still wordless, she found a tea tray and loaded it with the pot, a sugar bowl, milk from the fridge, two mugs, and–opening several drawers until she found the utensils–two spoons. Then she turned to meet his eyes for the first time. "Shall we drink our tea by the fire?"

They settled in on the rug in front of the hearth. The light was going, and they had not turned on any lamps, but the firelight was cozy. Each of their backs rested on a chair, each had a mug in their hands. "Tell me," he said after a time, "about your life here."

She sighed. "Anything in particular?"

"No. Jake told me a bit, but I want to hear from you."

"Oh, Doctor. It's not a particularly pretty story. Right after you faded away on the beach, I lost it a bit. Depressed and didn't eat much for a long time. I don't think Mickey or Jake or my family realized how bad it was for a while, until one day Mickey came to my flat, to go to a film I think, and found me passed out on the floor. I was just in my bra and pajama bottoms, and he got a look at my ribcage for the first time. He said he was almost sick there and then. But he called the ambulance, and Mum and Pete, and I went into the hospital. Eventually I came around to the idea that I needed help."

"I'm sorry, Rose."

"Not your fault. You saved the universe, I let go of the lever."

He shook his head. "I mean, I'm sorry you went through that."

"Oh. Yes. It was hard that you…the Doctor never got to say the words on the bay before the link cut out. Maybe I would have had some comfort from them. Maybe. I don't know any more. Maybe it would have been harder if I had known for sure he loved me. I've just always assumed it would have been easier to hear it said."

He stared at her. "It must have made it even worse when he wouldn't say it last week."

Once again she was struck by the sensitivity and perception of this new Doctor. "I think the Donna in you is doing you good."

"Why do you say that?"

"Oh, you notice things about me now, you follow my emotions, in a way he never could." While she did not smile, her eyes were warm on his. He smiled at her, and she flushed, looking down before continuing. "Well, in any case, after the hospital and the recovery program–which took about six months–I needed something to do and Torchwood seemed like the obvious thing. I'm sure Jake's filled you in on that."

"Yes. Defender of the Earth."

She snorted.

He thought of her flat, where they had spent two nights between her hospital stay and leaving for Scotland. It had been depressingly bare, sparingly though beautifully furnished. The guest bedroom had expensive sheets on the bed but no photos or artwork on the walls, which were all painted a generic cream color, everywhere in the flat. It felt like a posh hotel that had yet to have the decorators in. He had slept terribly. He said, "Your flat...it didn't feel very homey."

"Jake would probably tell you that was because I spent more nights on that couch in my office than at home. Not sure that's technically true, but what is true is that I resisted doing things like decorating or adding personality to the flat."

"Why?"

She exhaled slowly. "I think…I think that to do so would have been to acknowledge that I was putting down roots here. To say that I would never ever get back to him–to you. Never say never ever, right?"

"And now you're back here again."

"Yes. Maybe it's time to buy some art."

He laughed.

She continued, "Look, Doctor, I don't want to be self-pitying here, or make it sound like every day was a horror. It wasn't. Work could be exciting and rewarding. I studied and got my A-levels, or rather this universe's equivalent of them. Jake and Geoff were amazing mates, and Mickey…" She paused and swallowed and he saw her eyes fill with tears. "Mickey was…oh, I don't even know what to say. The best." A drop fell from one eye, then the other. "Every Wednesday. Every single Wednesday after work he took me to dinner and a movie. Come hell or high water or alien goo. Dinner and a movie, and some hours of laughter, and talk of home." She was crying in earnest now, but her voice remained strong. "Something happened to him, Doctor, between when we left him here and when I arrived the first time on Bad Wolf Bay. He matured into this…man. This strong, grown-up man who could look past his own hurt at what I'd done to him, and recognize that I loved you but that I loved him too, in a different way, and could move to where he could love me for what I could give him. He was such a hero. Every day at work, and then every time I needed him. He was my hero." She wiped both palms over her cheeks, pushing the tears away. "I can't believe he's gone." She now covered her face with her hands and sobbed.

The Doctor put down his mug and scooted next to her, wrapping her in his arms. "Shhh. Rose. I'm so sorry." He held her while she cried. Finally the tears slowed and she leaned back, scrubbing her face with her fists like a little girl.

"It's OK. He was wonderful here but he never felt fully at home. When his Gran in this world died, that was it, in some way. He'd dated a few girls but never really settled in with anyone. When we worked on the dimension cannon, he told me and Jake right up front that if we were able to make it through he'd see the job done and then he'd stay in our world." Her face scrunched again and a few more tears tumbled down her cheeks. "God, I hope he's happy, hope he finds someone who gives him everything he deserves."

The Doctor put his arm around her and pulled her close, offering her the comfort of his presence and his warmth. She leaned into him and her breathing normalized. Finally, he said, "I think I saw Martha giving Mickey appreciative glances during that last ride in the TARDIS."

Rose lifted her head and met his eyes. "Really?"

"Yep. Very…appreciative."

A slow and delighted grin spread across her face. "Mickey and Martha? How wonderful would that be?" She clapped her hands together and laughed. "Oh! That's…oh! She's lovely!"

"Now, don't get ahead of yourself. I just saw looks. It might not mean anything."

"But what a wonderful thing it would be!"

"Indeed. A love story to come out of all this." He realized what he had said and caught her wide gaze before she looked away. She spoke first.

"Now it's your turn. Tell me about Martha, and about Donna."

And he did. Told her of the adventures and the sorrows and the joys. He wanted to be brutally honest, not leaving out any details of his own bad behavior or how the two women had saved him, time and time again. So he told her about the Racnoss and Donna stopping him. He told her about Martha's crush and his ham-handed response. He told her about John Smith and Joan Redfern. He told her about finding Donna again. After some debate in his own mind, he told her an abridged version of the story of River. Whatever would happen with River, it would happen to the Doctor in the future. It was not his own story anymore, and he feared it would hurt Rose to hear too much of the little he knew. He had to take the risk she would not find out another way and feel deceived. Finally, he told her of his fears for Donna and what would become of her, with a Time Lord's intellect in a human brain. He told her what he thought the Doctor would have to do. She wept again, then, for Donna, and for the other Doctor. "He'll be alone again."

"Yes."

"Oh, god, Doctor…" Suddenly she froze and her eyes met his in panic, her fingers scrabbling at his hand. "But, if that will happen to Donna, what about you? Will you be alright?"

He smiled reassuringly. "Yes. Not to get too technical about it, but basically Donna added Time Lord to a human brain, and I did the reverse. Very different outcome."

She nodded and relaxed her hands. "But…Donna…she loved traveling with you. To lose that, and to have no memories to console her…she won't remember anything?"

He shook his head and felt his own eyes mist at the thought.

"Oh no, no, no." She raised her hands to her mouth in horror.

"Mightn't it be easier? Not to remember the pain? Mightn't it have been easier for you these years, without the heartbreak?" He was grasping at straws, he knew, and he had a sense of what she would think of the idea before she spoke.

"Some things are worth getting your heart broken for." She looked pensive, almost as if she was quoting someone, but he let it go.

They sat in silence for a time, until almost simultaneously she yawned hugely and his stomach growled. They both laughed and hauled themselves up off the floor. They made a simple supper out of the cold food in the fridge and sat at the kitchen table with their heads bent over the local guidebooks Margaret had provided. They decided on a drive and a hike for the next day, before washing up the dishes. They mounted the stairs together and with silent communication she went in the bathroom first, changing, washing up, and brushing her teeth. She headed for one bedroom as he came out of the other for his turn in the bathroom. She smiled at him, her eyes red and tired but looking happy. "Good night, Doctor, sleep well."

"Good night, Rose," he responded, and without thinking added, "I love you."

"I love you too, my Doctor," she replied, closing the door gently behind her and missing his look of wonder and joy. She had not said it before.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

**He woke** the next morning to sun streaming in the window of his bedroom. He also awoke ragingly aroused, having had a dream of Rose, such a vivid dream. He had been making love to her in this room, in this bed. It had been so real that it took him several moments to realize that she was not there with him, that it had not really happened. He dragged himself to a sitting position and rubbed his face with his hands. He realized that he could smell coffee brewing and he stood, making his way out the door to the bathroom, where he saw evidence that Rose had already showered. He would do so after coffee, he decided. He washed his face and brushed his teeth and then headed in the direction of the stairs to go find Rose, but paused outside the door of her room. It stood open and he saw her bed, the covers thrown back, the pillow indented from the weight of her head. Without thinking he entered and sat down on her bed, picking up her pillow and hugging it to his chest as he thought of her words last night, and of his dream. Had she meant the words? Had she meant them in the way he meant them when he said them to her, or did she mean them in a…friendly way? Fraternal? The thought was horrifying. He closed his eyes and buried his face in her pillow, inhaling her scent. He did not, such was the turmoil of his thoughts, hear footsteps on the stairs.

"Are you smelling my pillow?"

He flinched in surprise and looked up to find Rose standing in the doorway of her room, holding two steaming cups and smiling at him. He found he couldn't speak, only stare at her with wide eyes.

"Doctor?" Her eyebrow lifted and her smile broadened. She placed the two mugs on the wardrobe and took a step toward him. "Did you get lost on the way downstairs?"

When he moved it was with a speed that shocked her; in retrospect she was glad she had put down the cups of hot liquid. In a flash he was before her and had buried his fingers in the hair on either side of her face, holding her head steady as he brought his mouth down on hers. Her hands flew to his chest but did not push him away; her mouth opened instinctively to let him deepen the kiss. After a moment her hands slid up around his neck and his own arms dropped to wrap around her waist, in an unconscious reenactment of the kiss on the beach. He could not seem to get close enough to her, no matter how tightly he held her. He backed her up into the wall and continued to kiss her with a passion that felt overwhelming to her in the best possible way. Without thinking, she rotated her hips into his, seeking greater contact with the hardness she felt against her. He made a guttural noise, sort of an "unh", and broke the kiss, yanking his torso back from her but leaving his forehead touching hers. She tried to follow his hips with her own but he brought his hands sharply down to her hipbones, holding her gently but firmly against the wall. She opened her eyes and watched his face, so close to her own. His eyes were closed, his teeth bared, his breath hissing in and out in pants. "Doctor," she whispered.

"Be quiet, Rose. Give me a minute," he whispered back. She whimpered a bit and squirmed against his hands, causing him to increase the pressure holding her to the wall in response. After a long moment he opened his eyes and stepped away from her.

"Doctor, why did you stop?"

"Did you mean it, Rose?"

"Did I mean what?"

"Last night. You said you loved me."

"Of course I meant it."

He reached out to cup her face, holding her eyes with his. "Rose. Do you love me? Or your memory of the man I look like?"

He watched as a chill entered her gaze. She stepped sideways out of his reach. "I could ask you the same question, Doctor. You have talked about loving me since you arrived, but do you only love the memory of the naïve, besotted girl who traveled with you?"

"Rose…"

"No, Doctor!" Her voice was angry now. "You don't have the monopoly on confusion here. We're both dealing with the fact that we obviously have strong feelings for each other. Emotional and…physical." Her lips quirked slightly and her tone softened, but when he took a step forward, she took a corresponding one back. "And many of those feelings are based on the past, on the way things used to be between us. Neither of us can pretend like we know each other very well right now. And so maybe we should just go ahead with our hike as planned and save…this kind of thing for a while, until we're both more comfortable."

He sighed. "You're probably right, Rose. Give me a few minutes?"

"Of course. There's breakfast downstairs."

**They drove** a good distance, past Loch Leven and along the shores of Loch Linnhe as far as Fort William, then took the turnoff for Glen Nevis. They parked the car and began their hike on a path shaded by trees, the river burbling on the right. After a time, the forest cover thinned and the view opened into the glen, with the mountains up ahead and the thin lace of the Steall falls running down the face of the rock. The reached the riverbank and continued hiking along it until they reached the bridge across the water, which had to be crossed in order to approach the falls themselves. The Doctor thought that "bridge" might be a bit charitable, actually, as it consisted of three thick wires strung across the water–one for the feet and one for each hand. Not the sort of thing he would have hesitated at as a Time Lord, but he felt less certain in this new body. Still, when Rose approached the bridge without any pause and swung herself up onto it, he could hardly help but follow. He was considerably slower and less graceful than she as he crossed, edging his way with the unaccustomed fear of falling plaguing him. He pointed out to himself halfway across that it was not actually very far to the water and that the only thing he would hurt if he fell was his pride. Still, the idea of humiliating himself in front of Rose was not appealing, and he was pleased that he made it to the other side without that happening. A short while later they reached a meadow with a particularly good view of the falls and an appealing area of flat rock on which to perch without worrying about dampness. They did so, and sat in silence for a time. They had a picnic in their bag, but neither made a move yet to open it. Rather, they both seemed focused on the beauty of their surroundings and their own thoughts. The Doctor was the first to break the silence.

"Rose, I need to tell you something. I've made a decision."

She turned her head to him. "That's quite an opening."

"I don't want to work for Torchwood."

Her gaze held his, steadily. "Can I ask why?"

"Several reasons. One, I just can't shake my feelings about the old Torchwood, and even though I know yours is different, I'm afraid I'd bring a bad attitude–a suspicious attitude–to the job. Second, I…I think I'd have a hard time seeing you take risks day after day. I think I would end up hovering, or interfering. And last, I want to do something of my own, on my own." He paused after this rush of words and awaited her thoughts. He felt some trepidation, had been worrying about this for several days, but he knew it was the right decision for him in this new life of his.

"What do you think you want to do?" Her voice was calm, curious.

"I thought I might teach. I actually talked about it a bit with Pete the other day. He said that getting me a teaching job would probably be embarrassingly easy, as long as I was OK with working in…what did he call it? 'Disadvantaged parts of London.'"

Rose snorted. "It's so funny to me…when he talks like that about parts of the city…those are the areas Mum and I lived in my whole life, until we came here." She shook her head. "You really want to teach?"

"Yeah, I think so. I thought maybe physics." He peered at her, saw her grin. "What?"

"Well, if you end up at a school that's anything like mine was…let's just say the Daleks might start looking friendly compared to those kids." She laughed.

"I thought you might not take this so well."

"Because you don't want to work at Torchwood? I admit I'm disappointed. But I see the sense of it, of you finding your own path. I had to when I came here, after all. Do you think…do you think you'll be willing to consult, if we have a piece of alien tech we just can't identify?"

"Of course, Rose, you know I'll always help you."

She smiled and touched his cheek. "You'll be brilliant as a teacher. They'll all be in love with you."

"Don't be silly. They'll hate me for trying to make them learn." And please stop trying to find other people to love me, he thought to himself, slightly sourly.

"No, Doctor, trust me, I was one of those kids once; the teachers who give a damn are the ones they love." She paused and seemed to hesitate before speaking again. "Do you want your own flat too?"

His heart sank. She was angry after all. "Do you want me to move out?"

At the dejection in his voice she reached out and grasped his hand. "No!" His eyes met hers and he felt relief. "No, Doctor, I really don't. But I know you don't like my flat and I thought, in the spirit of 'doing your own thing'…"

"I don't like your flat because you don't seem comfortable there. It doesn't seem lived in. I want to live with you and make a home."

Her smile was beautiful. "OK then."

Again, silence fell between them, but he felt profound relief this time. He had told her and she had understood. His wonderful Rose. She shifted beside him and spoke.

"Doctor. Can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"It's kind of…embarrassing."

"Now you're the one intriguing me."

"Well." She sighed in frustration. "You tell me you love me. You tell me you love me because the other Doctor did. Right?"

"Yes. He did, and I do."

"But…why did he never touch me?"

The Doctor looked uncomprehending. "I…he touched you all the time. Hugging and all that."

"Don't be thick, Doctor. Why did he never kiss me, or want to have sex with me? You've kissed me more in a week than he did in two years."

He turned horrified eyes on her. "Oh, Rose…didn't you realize?"

"What?"

"Well, Time Lords, they don't…have sex."

She gaped. "What?"

"No. Not for centuries. It's been, well, trained and bred out of us. Them."

"Oh. But how did they have children?"

"They'd harvest eggs and sperm and grow them outside the mother. It's called looming."

"Oh." She repeated. "That doesn't sound like much fun."

He smiled. "No, I suppose not. But no pain or death in childbirth or birth defects either."

"Ah."

He looked in her eyes. "I'm sorry, Rose. I'm just realizing–I, or rather he–he didn't know that you didn't understand that. You thought…you thought I…he didn't want you because of you?"

She slid her eyes away from his and hunched her shoulders. She was stunned. All this time, she had assumed it was her, that she was not attractive enough to lure a Time Lord. Why had the other Doctor never told her this? But, really, why was she surprised? He hadn't told her about regeneration. In the lever room, he had planned to send her with Jackie and Pete without telling her. He hadn't told her about his plans on Bad Wolf Bay.

Her new Doctor rose to his knees and reached out, turned her face to him. "It had nothing to do with you. He loved you. He just wasn't…minded that way."

She stared at him for a few moments. "But you are."

"I think you've seen evidence of that," he said with a grin he hoped was seductive. "Human hormones, me. Thanks to Donna."

"Ah," she said again. He removed his hand from her face and sat back down. They both resumed staring at the falls.

"So he…you never had sex with Martha or Donna either."

"Oi! No! As I said, he just didn't have those urges."

"Wow. So…you're a virgin?"

"In your sense of the word, yes. That OK?"

"Yeah, of course. Do…do you have a basic sense of what we do?"

"Well, yes, I always knew that. And I've been doing some reading recently."

She turned wide eyes on him and a delighted grin spread across her face. "You have? Why?"

"Don't want to be rubbish at it. You know, 'cause I'm inexperienced. I mean, of course, if you decide you want to do it. With me."

"Oh, Doctor. Being rubbish at it has a lot more to do with not caring about it than the number of times you've done it. My first boyfriend was complete rubbish even though he'd slept with a bunch of girls. Because he didn't give a damn about what I felt during."

"Did he hurt you?"

"He didn't force me. But yes, he hurt me. He was my first and I was only fifteen and he didn't take the time to make it nice. And I didn't know any better. All my girlfriends thought sex wasn't supposed to be fun for girls, and I didn't have the sense to talk to Mum until I had a pregnancy scare with Jimmy."

"That must have been a hard conversation."

"Almost made myself sick worrying about it before I did it. But she was brilliant. Took me to the doctor, got me tested for pregnancy–and for everything else, since that prat didn't bother to use a condom. Everything turned up negative, thank God. But when we got home from the doctor's office Mum sat me down and made me tell her everything about what had happened with Jimmy. Then she set my head on straight about sex and how I deserved to be treated. Not to mention got me on birth control!" Rose laughed at the memory. "She wanted to tear Jimmy's head off."

"I can imagine," the Doctor said dryly. "Does the young man still live and breathe, after Jackie Tyler got through with him?"

"He does, but he had to slink around the estate for a long while after she dressed him down in the courtyard in broad daylight, with her voice echoing off the walls. Everyone could hear! It was brilliant."

"Good. Little bastard."

"Yeah. After that, Mum got a bit protective of me around men–as you know!" The Doctor rubbed his cheek thoughtfully. "She barely even trusted Mickey, even though we'd known each other since we were small. I think she really felt Dad's absence then, that he wasn't there to look after me and scare off bad sorts."

"Did you…did you date anyone after you came here?"

She twisted her mouth. "No."

"Why not?"

She stared at him. "You're seriously asking me that?"

"But Rose, four years–you didn't try with anyone?"

She sighed. "The first year, I was in no condition to try anything. After that, I threw myself into work, spent all my time there. I only really saw Mickey and Jake and Geoff and a few other colleagues. Jake's gay and Geoff's married and Mickey was…complicated. And I never wanted to date a colleague anyway. The whole Glenn thing just sealed that deal for me."

"What did he do, exactly?"

"He tried to join our group, came out to the pub with us a few times. It was OK for a while, but then he started to ask me out. I tried to be gentle, to make light of it, talked about being married to work, but he wouldn't get the hint. Then once, at Torchwood, he cornered me in an empty conference room, pushed me against a wall and tried to kiss me and feel me up." She gave a short laugh. "Didn't seem to realize the extent of the martial arts training I had. Idiot." She said this with an unsettling combination of disdain and satisfaction, a cold smile lingering on her lips.

The Doctor said nothing, but she saw his hands were clenched. "Doctor, it's OK. I was more than able to take care of myself by that point. It wasn't like…" She stopped suddenly.

"It wasn't like what?"

"N…Nothing."

"Rose, tell me." His tone was commanding and she sighed resignedly.

She lifted her hands to her face and stroked her fingers hard along her brows, as if trying to soothe a headache. "It was…a stupid thing that, fortunately, ended well, through pure luck. It was about a year and a half into my time here. I was eating again, but not much, and still really depressed. I'd started working at Torchwood and had had a hard day there. Seen a team member get hurt. I went to a bar by myself and drank, but I hadn't drunk alcohol in a long time and I weighed so much less, so I got drunker than I expected. I…I danced with a guy. Tall, skinny, floppy brown hair."

The Doctor sucked in his breath and she gave him a wan smile. "Yeah, I know. Didn't look like you at all, really, but about the right height. When he hugged me, if I closed my eyes…it felt close. Of course he didn't smell right or anything, but I was drunk enough not to care, at least at first. I brought him home and we kissed a bit, but when he started to take my shirt off I lost it. Just started crying hysterically, because he wasn't you and because I was drunk, and sad, and lonely."

The Doctor said, low, "Oh, Rose."

"Yeah. But like I said, I was lucky. He actually was a nice guy. He just made me some tea and left. In the state I was in I couldn't have defended myself at all, if he'd been…well, Glenn."

"I'm so sorry."

"I know." She paused, but clearly wanted to say more, so he waited. "It's why I'm having such a hard time now, Doctor. I want you." He could not help but smile at that admission and reached for her hand, but she pressed on. "I want to be with you. A flat together, a life together. It's all I've wanted for years. I tore my body apart looking for you. And now you're offering all that to me. But…I feel like it's still out of my reach, because I'm so afraid. I was such a mess when I lost you. If we were to…be together, and then you were to leave me, I don't know if I could get through it again."

"I'm not going to leave you, Rose."

"You don't know that."

"Yes, I do."

"No, Doctor, you don't." Her voice was angry now. "You're a brilliant man but that's a stupid thing to say. Putting aside the fact that you could die and you won't regenerate, let's just discuss that you're newly human. You've got new hormones coursing through you, and I'm familiar. Someone you loved in the past. You say you want me, and you love me, but what if you're just infatuated with me? Or worse, the memory of me? Who knows how you'll feel in a month or in a year?"

He didn't answer right away. It was a heartfelt question, and a frightened one, and a glib answer would only make things worse. He took a breath and began. "You're right, Rose. I can't say for sure where I'll be or how I'll feel in six months or a year or ten years. I didn't expect to regenerate on the game station, I didn't expect the lever room. Even as a Time Lord I couldn't foresee everything. I certainly can't now."

She nodded, seeming mollified by his admission. She had held herself tense as if waiting to fight his expected denial of her statement. Now she relaxed and scooted toward him, leaning her head on his shoulder. He took her hand.

"But what I can tell you, Rose, is that when you were away from me, I missed you so much. Every day, I missed you. Everything that happened to me, I wish you had been there to experience it with me. Well…maybe not the terrible things. But you know what I mean. And when I saw you again on that dark street, I just…" his voice broke and he paused to collect himself. Her hand tightened in his and her other arm went around him.

"I know," she whispered.

"I thought maybe I could have you with me again. And as it turned out…Rose, I know this is not what you would have wished for. Me and not him." She opened her mouth to speak but he silenced her with a gesture. "I know it isn't, Rose. I'm not what you worked so hard to get back to. But I love you like he did. And I want you like he never could. You are the woman I loved, but even stronger and smarter and more beautiful. I can't imagine ever wanting to leave you. I will work as hard as I can to make sure I never do. That's all I can promise, Rose. And I promise it. Now you have to decide if it's enough."

When he turned his eyes to her face he saw she was crying, but also smiling. Without a word, she leaned in and kissed him. "Thank you," she whispered. "It's true what I said to you the other day. I went looking for him. But I'm glad I found you."

He pulled her toward him and kissed her tear-soaked cheeks, peppering her face with more gentle kisses. She sighed and ran her hands to the back of his neck and moved to capture his mouth, tasting the salt of her tears on his lips. Her position sitting beside him was uncomfortable so she moved, rising to her knees and swinging one leg over him before settling down into his lap, facing him. He groaned at the pressure of her bum against his groin, but soon even that sensation was overwhelmed by the depth of their kisses. She buried her fingers in his hair, holding his head in place–as if, he thought to himself, he was going anywhere. His own hands worked their way up under her sweatshirt and splayed flat across her back, thumbs rubbing up and down across the smoothness of her skin. At some point she shifted again, rotating her legs so that she now sat flush on his lap, her legs wrapped around his waist, their torsos crushed together. After a few minutes of this the tiny remaining sentient part of his brain noted that things were getting a bit frantic for outdoors, in a public place. The remainder of his brain firmly shushed this voice of reason, and he tightened his grip on her. She released his mouth, gasping, and laid kisses down his jaw, her mouth coming to rest at his ear. "I love you so much," she breathed. At that he moved, fluidly flipping them over, holding the back of her head to prevent any impact as she came to rest beneath him on the ground. She moaned as he took control, burying his face in her neck and sucking the delicate skin he found there. She entwined her legs in his and pressed her pelvis upward against him, causing him to swear softly as he ran his tongue over the red mark he had made.

At that moment, sounds began to intrude on his ears. He felt her tense and still and knew she heard them too. The sound of voices, coming closer, and included among them the higher-pitched tones of children. The Doctor's eyes met Rose's and suddenly the seriousness of their passion was replaced by an adolescent giggling as they both scrambled to sit upright and make themselves decent. Rose smoothed her hair, the Doctor mussed his own, and he reached out to brush leaves from Rose's back. They moved apart, but kept their hands clasped. Sure enough, moments later a family of hikers appeared from the direction of the bridge. The parents smiled in acknowledgment at the seated couple chastely holding hands and apparently absorbed in the view of the falls. After pausing to admire the view themselves, the group moved off, with the three children trailing behind their parents. As they watched the family disappear, Rose said in a wry tone, "I think that may be our cue to head back."

"It will take a few minutes before I'm fit to be seen by impressionable youth," he said. He noticed her smile and lifted an eyebrow at her. "You are amused by my distress, love?"

Her grin widened at the endearment. "No. But happy that I caused it."

"That you did. Minx."

"You have no idea, Doctor," she said with a saucy look, tongue visible at the side of her mouth.

He closed his eyes, momentarily. "You've just bought yourself another five minutes of sitting here, young lady."

**The walk** back to the car and then the drive back to the cottage had passed in near silence, mostly companionable, with each of them intercepting happy–and vaguely disbelieving–glances from the other. On their return to the house, Rose had told him softly that she wanted to shower. He had seen the wisdom of this, as both of them were sweaty and disheveled from their hike, and he sent her to shower first. He followed when she finished, enjoying the hot water on his muscles. When he emerged and dressed in his pajamas, he did not find her on either of their beds–worse luck–and so descended the stairs in search of her. She was in the kitchen, in a pose reminiscent of the evening before, standing at the counter watching a brewing pot of tea. But her demeanor was entirely different. Instead of being hunched over the counter with tension visible in her shoulders she was leaning backward, hanging from the edge of the counter, balanced on her heels, swaying back and forth. And she was singing. Did Rose Tyler sing? Well, she was singing now.

And take me disappearing through the smoke rings of my mind  
>Down the foggy ruins of time, far past the frozen leaves<br>The haunted frightened trees, out to the windy beach  
>Far from the twisted reach of crazy sorrow<br>Yes to dance beneath the diamond sky with one hand waving free  
>Silhouetted by the sea…<p>

Her song ended in a squeal as he wrapped his arms around her waist. "What are you singing?"

"Don't you know Bob Dylan? From my universe?"

"I would have thought you were a bit young for him."

"Oh, I was, but my dad was a fan and had his records–real records! Mum kept them after he died and liked to play them. I remember hearing that particular song from the time I was little. I told Mum it was my favorite song because it wasn't mushy."

The Doctor laughed. "A clear-eyed realist even then."

She turned in his arms to face him and smiled in return. "When I got here, I started singing all sorts of old songs from our universe, just so I wouldn't forget them. And Pete here has no idea who Bob Dylan is, of course, so it…was a way to keep a hold on my dad. My real dad." She paused. "And this song, it…reminded me of you. Of the Doctor."

"That's appropriate. Dylan's an alien, you know."

"Seriously?"

"Yep."

She was thoughtful. "Actually, that explains a lot."

Her gaze returned to his, and they smiled simultaneously. Then suddenly, feeling his growing hardness as he pressed against her, she blushed and dropped her eyes, fiddling with the lapel on his pajama top. He waited, not releasing her, but not moving to do more. Finally she took a breath, raised her eyes, and looked at him squarely. He loved her even more then, her courage and her nervousness simultaneously on show. "Is this it, Doctor?"

"I think so, don't you?"

"Oh, yes."

With that permission granted, his mouth met hers. She marveled, momentarily, before sensation overcame her, at the harmony of their kisses. No awkward clashing of teeth or missing of mouths, as had happened with her boyfriends in her youth. Rather, from that first kiss on the beach, they seem to know what the other needed and would do. Their mouths melded and tongues entwined as if choreographed, practiced in advance. She grew lightheaded from his kissing and realized it might be a good idea for both of them to breathe. She broke the kiss to gasp air and felt gratified at the heaving of his own chest. With him distracted by an unaccustomed need for oxygen she went after his neck, planting slow open-mouthed kisses from his jaw down toward his chest, flicking her tongue and sucking lightly as she went. He groaned loudly and his hands went from holding her to him to gripping her for support. The thought occurred to her that, for perhaps the first time ever in all the forms she had known him, the Doctor was in her power. He was the innocent, the inexperienced, and she was the expert. Well, as much of an expert as she could be with six years since her last shag.

Her smugness increased as she nibbled his collarbone, exposed at the edge of his pajama top–really, his pale skin with the dusting of freckles was too luscious for words–but then he seemed to recover himself and worked his hands under her fleece top, sliding up over her stomach to cup her breasts, then sliding further up to pinch her nipples. She cried out and dropped her forehead to his shoulder, trying to steady herself against him. He continued to gently work her nipples between his thumbs and forefingers, while simultaneously leaning in to suck her earlobe. The sensation was overwhelming and she clung to him to try to stay upright. Who was she kidding? She was not experienced in this. The Doctor had just evoked feelings in her with his hands and mouth well above her waist that Jimmy and even Mickey had never done in all their perusals of her body. This was undiscovered country, and she and the Doctor were both strangers in it, together. At that realization she gripped his head in both her hands and pulled him to look at her. "Doctor, I want you to know…"

He looked dazed. "What?" He tweaked her nipples again and she moaned.

"God…I want you to know I love you. So much."

"Oh, Rose. My Rose." He slid his hands around her back and crushed her to him. He felt painfully hard against her, and she rubbed herself against that hardness, trying to alleviate some of the ache in her own groin. It didn't work, but only intensified her feeling, especially when he shuddered against her.

"Rose…let's go upstairs."

Wordlessly she took his hand and led him out of the kitchen and up the stairs to her dark room. In the dim light she could see the cover was still thrown back on the bed, and she shivered, remembering their encounter by that bed earlier that day. That same day? Could it be? She heard a click behind her and a soft light flooded the room. He had switched on a small lamp that sat on a low table in one corner. The light was golden and flattering and yet she was suddenly nervous, her fingers ghosting over her fleece top and cotton sleeping shorts. Why had she not thought to bring something sexier? He was next to her then, moving with sudden determination–when had his pajama top vanished?–and before she knew what was happening he had slid his fingers under the waistband of her shorts and dropped them at her feet. She stepped out of them, compliantly, and he did the same for her top, leaving her naked in the light of the lamp. He stepped back and stared at her.

This made her bashful. Even in this dim light, her scars were clearly visible, webbing her stomach and her upper thigh. Again her hands fluttered indeterminately, not seeking to hide the marks, exactly, for they were too extensive for her hands to cover, but almost as if trying to distract his gaze from them by the movement. He seemed to understand this and he grasped her hands in his, holding them wide. "Rose, they came from you trying to find me. They are part of you. And you…you are so beautiful I could come now from just looking at you."

She looked up and saw that his jaw was tight, that the muscles of his shoulders were visibly tense. He was indeed struggling for control. The sight of her Doctor, nearly undone at the sight of her, the real her, the now her, with her scars, worked a magic deep inside her. She stepped toward him and kissed him with all the intensity of her love, wrapping one arm around his waist and using the other to work around the elastic of his pajama bottoms until they dropped and he was as naked as she. The sensation of their bare bodies against each other caused them both to shudder convulsively. "Rose," he gasped. "I don't think…I don't think I'm going to last long at all…" He looked impossibly beautiful to her, aroused and nervous.

She put her hand on his face. "Here's what we will do. We'll do this now, and it will be quick and dirty for both of us, believe me." He moaned softly and captured her thumb with his lips, sucking gently, but she continued, inexorable. "Then we'll go downstairs and drink lukewarm tea, and eat something, and then we'll come back here and take as long as we need to when we do it again. And maybe again. OK?"

A slight smile curled one corner of his mouth but a hint of worry remained. "I don't want to be too quick and…and hurt you, Rose."

She realized he was thinking of what she had told him about Jimmy and if not for the earnest look on his face she would have laughed out loud. As if it was comparable. As if. Rather, she made her face as serious as she could manage and said, "Doctor, I have never been this wet in my entire life. You could not hurt me." She took his hand in hers. "Want to see?" And she guided his hand to her folds.

For both of them, the sensation of his long fingers sliding across her was knee-buckling. It was fortunate that she was next to the bed when she brought him to touch her, because moments later she was flat on her back on that bed, albeit with her feet still on the floor. Showing the surprising strength in his wiry form, he picked her up bodily and tossed her to the center of the bed and then jumped in next to her, his face in her neck and his hand resuming its place in her wet center. He zeroed in immediately on the right spot, rubbing gently but firmly while he alternated between kissing her breasts and whispering in her ear. With a speed that would have been embarrassing, were it anyone but the Doctor, she was clinging to him, crying out and grinding her pelvis into his hand. Her words were garbled, "God, I love you, never leave me, Doctor, I love you…"

When she finally stilled, her breath still racing, she became aware of him next to her, whimpering softly, his penis impossibly hard against her inner thigh, dampness at its tip. She momentarily debated teasing him just a bit, but quickly resolved to save that for later. She guided his body to hover over her, lifted her legs around his waist, positioned him, then moved her hands to his bum and applied pressure. He slid into her in one thrust, causing both of them to cry out, and then he froze. "Oh, Rose, fuck, Rose…" he muttered against her ear. She held him tightly in her, marveling at the feel of him inside her. Finally he gasped, "Please, love, let me move…" and she lifted her hands. He thrust into her, hard, three times before he wailed her name and his whole body stiffened for a long moment. Then he collapsed on top of her, sweaty and shaking.

Their breaths slowed together and finally he rolled off her, gathering her to his chest. He felt her shoulders shaking slightly and lifted his head to look at her face. She was laughing softly and she reached up to kiss him. He asked, "What is funny?"

"Us. How much I love you. How quick we both were."

He hummed contentedly, eyes closed. "Best five seconds of my life."

"Those must have been some books you were reading."

"I have not even begun to show you the extent of my newfound expertise, I'll have you know."

"Something to look forward to, then."

"Hush up and rest next to me for a moment, my love, and then I'll show you," he said, pulling her close.

**An hour** of dozing later, sweetly curled together.

"Rose?"

"Yes?"

"Should we have thought about birth control?"

She kissed his shoulder. "Torchwood field agents–women, that is–get birth control shots. They last six months. I'm covered."

"Hmm. So we'll have to plan ahead when we want to have babies." She lay very still for a moment, then lifted her head and used one finger on his chin to turn his face to hers.

"You're lying there making big plans for us, I see."

He smiled complacently at her. "Yep."

Her eyes were huge at this close range. "And how long are you going to stay with me?"

Recognition filled him, and love, and desire. Was it really possible to laugh and cry at the same time in this body? Ridiculous. But he managed to speak his answer past the happy emotion choking his throat. "Forever."

**fin**


End file.
